Living Memory
by midnightdreams13
Summary: This is the story of the flock many years after Max saves the world and their journey as they struggle to maintain a normal life in this new world that has emerged. Now a new threat is looming above; how are they supposed to make it through? R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

Introduction

There are some things in life that you just can't change...no matter how much you try, how much you wish it wasn't so, its true none the less. That's what I've always told myself at least. You see, I'm different. And I know what you're thinking: who isn't? But I'm not that kind of different, I'm the kind that shouldn't exist, not in the natural, one hundred percent human kind of way. You could say I'm the product of a few thoroughly conducted, well-planned science experiments.

There is a darkness to me, no one sees it, but its there. No one can see that behind my smile, I'm incomplete…I've always been that way. Well, maybe not always. But twelve years is a damn long time, and when you're age three, you don't remember everything that you wish you could.

I'm getting off track. This story isn't about me, not completely. This story is about my family, and what it has cost them to survive. You could say we've paid the maximum price.

Chapter One:

I stare into the mirror one last time before heading dejectedly down from my room. I can see panic on my face as I check for maybe the hundredth time to see if my wings are hidden. They are, of course, I have nothing to worry about. So why can't I stop fidgeting? It's like I know something was going to go wrong today, I know that no matter what I did, fate was going to step in.

Of course, I don't know these things for certain, I just had a feeling. This morning when I woke up, chills ran down my spine, my heart was beating a million miles a minute, and no matter what I did; I couldn't catch my breath. So, I wonder again, what was wrong with me?

I'm not sure why, but every time something bad is about to happen, I know about it. Weird? Yes. And before you ask, no, I'm not psychic. I just have sixth sense of sorts. But who wouldn't after what I've been through?

I turn to brush my long hair when I hear a voice call my name loudly from outside my door. "Ultimate?!"

Before you ask again, yes, my name is Ultimate. Sometimes I like to think my parents were seriously delusional when they picked out my name, or perhaps it was their idea of a sick joke. But sadly, it was none of the above that caused the usage of an adjective in place of a real name. It was actually one of my aunts that made the suggestion of calling me that, and for some reason, my parents agreed. However, I didn't complain too much about it. Knowing my family, it could have been worse…much worse. Trust me on that one.

I realize that the voice who called me belonged to my oldest aunt, Nudge. With my hands trembling, I drop my brush to the ground, not really caring about if I pick it up or not, and reach for the door. When I pull it open, no one is standing there, so I poke my head out and stare down both ends of the hallway, trying to figure out where she went to. I solve my mystery soon when I hear her, yet again, yelling a few rooms down from mine. But this time, at my youngest uncle who was refusing to join the waking world.

I smile, beside myself, and then step out into the hallway. All the way from the top floor, I can smell breakfast being prepared down in the kitchen. Apparently, we are having waffles, which could only mean one thing: Aunt Angel is home for a visit.

I immediately rush out of my room and practically jump to the bottom of the stairs before sliding through the kitchen door. It is as I suspected: Uncle Iggy preparing most of the food by the stove top, listening to Aunt Angel who is sitting on the edge of the counter, letting her dainty legs swing back and forth below her while she speaks to him of the happenings in the city.

"I still think you would like it if you gave it a chance," she smiles, even though he can't see it. "Sometimes there are tons of exciting things to hear if you get past all the car noises and people on cell phones." She takes a quick sip of the coffee that's practically glued to her hand before waiting on his response.

"Ang, thanks, but I'm gonna have to pass," Iggy says in an apologetic way. "It's just way too…confusing for me, like constant chaos…"

"That's alright," she interrupts, patting his had soothingly, "I understand."

He smiles now too before turning his attention to the bacon on the far burner.

"Ultimate!" Aunt Angel screams before launching herself off the counter top toward me.

As she engulfs me in a hug, I smile widely. "Hi, Aunt Angel," I finally breath after she lets me out of her death clamp.

Even though she released me from her embrace, she still holds onto my shoulders from an arm's width away. I know what she's doing: looking over me, memorizing me. I see all of them doing it from time to time. I try to ignore the reason why, even though I know its there, as plain as day.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, which confuses me, but only for a moment. I forgot to guard my thoughts around her.

I smile, mostly at my dumbness, and hug her again. "When did you get in?" I ask as I go over to the cabinet to grab myself a mug. I learned a long time ago that changing the subject was a lot easier than addressing a problem that I wished didn't exist.

She easily climbs back up to her spot on the counter top and watches me intently as I smoothly make my way around Uncle Iggy, not wanting to perturb him in his element. "About an hour ago," she says offhandedly. "I wanted to see you off on your big day," she continues, with her signature angelic smile upon her face.

I nod as I fill the coffee cup to the brim and take a large sip. I don't need them knowing how nervous I am, it will only make matters worse. Besides, my dad was dead set on making me go, and when he was set there was no arguing with him.

"Remember our first day of school, Angel?" Iggy calls as he fetches more milk for the waffles from the fridge.

She giggles; something most twenty seven year olds tend not to do. "Yeah," she answers dreamily. I can tell she's reliving it in her thoughts. "And the Head Hunter?" she laughs more loudly.

At that, a broad grin spreads over my uncle's face. "Man, Gazzy and I loved terrorizing him."

Angel nods and sips her coffee again. "He was a nasty piece of work."

I had heard the story of their adventures in northern Virginia attending school the first time many times before, but this time it really sunk in that I would have to participate in the grotesque ritual of being forcibly sent to a prison of learning. I knew I wouldn't fit in; they would see that I was different. They would know I was…altered somehow.

As I contemplate the possibilities of what school would be like, my eyes unconsciously fell to a picture on the mantle above the fire place. I'm still amazed at how much I look like her. If not for my father's dark wings, and eyes to boot, I would probably be her carbon copy. Well…maybe we weren't exactly alike, but it was so close that sometimes I would see a picture of her and wonder when I had worn that awful outfit or when the picture was taken and how I didn't know someone was there with a camera.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn away quickly in embarrassment. I can't believe he caught me looking at the wedding picture again. Well, if you can call it a wedding. My mom is wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt that appears to have just been bought and thrown on for the occasion while Dad is in his signature black outfit with his old leather jacket, red X's on the arms. The only way you could tell that they were in fact getting married was the bouquet in my mother's hand and the blurry image of a reverend in the background. But, hey, that's my family. We never seem to do any kind of tradition the right way.

"You ready?" my father asks in his deep voice.

I turn and glance at the clock. "Its only thirty miles," I stated frankly, folding my arms in front of me with a questioning look on my face.

He smiles at me crookedly and I realize again what my mom must have seen in him. Even for a thirty-six year old, my dad still looks pretty good. Every time we go out in public I can see women trying to catch his eye, but he never notices. There was only ever one girl for him. "I told you we were going to drive," he states, watching my mouth fall open in disbelief.

"I can fly on my on," I tell him definitively. My mind was made up. Besides, I was fifteen, not five.

He sighs and lets his arms fall loosely at his sides. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

I suppose it was inherited, but I wouldn't say that out loud. It was something I learned long ago. "Why do you have to treat me like a child?" I ask instead, a smile on my face.

We stare each other down for what feels like the longest time until he shakes his head in annoyance, not defeat. "Let me drive you today…"

I open my mouth to interrupt but he cuts me off.

"Just today. You can fly on your own tomorrow."

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment, wondering if it was a trick, but decide to go along with his plan anyway. Maybe during the car ride I could try to sway him on his decision to send me to public school. Even though, it was doubtful I would get anywhere. After all my years of home schooling, he finally said that I needed to be around kids my own age, and when my dad made a decision, he kept to it.

"Fine," I tell him, going over to the kitchen table to scarf down a few waffles before my prison term begins.

"Good," he smiles more broadly at my compliance and joins me at the table.

Soon, Aunt Nudge comes bustling into the kitchen. Her thick hair is tied back in a pony tail on the back of her head while her makeup is perfectly placed as usual. "I'm going to have to eat at the office," she yammers, grabbing a few pieces of fruit from the bowl in the middle of the table.

Dad looks at her questioningly. "Horse got hit on the highway, they're probably already waiting on me," she explains quickly as Iggy hands her a thermos full of coffee.

Aunt Nudge was one of the best veterinarians in the region and she opened up her own practice about a mile away from the house almost three years ago. She always did have a soft spot for animals, so it only made sense that she would devote a career to helping them. Her animal hospital was not a typical one. For one, no one wore white lab coats, but rather, purple stylish ones Nudge made herself. The cages were also a lot roomer and less cage-like than traditional vet's offices had. Then there was the antiseptic. She always paid extra so that she could buy antiseptic that didn't smell the way the generic kind did.

I used to ask Aunt Nudge why she went to so much trouble, back when I was younger, before I knew any better. She would say "There are some things you can never forget, no matter how hard you try. But, that doesn't mean you have to remind yourself of it twenty-four seven, now does it?" She wasn't being cruel when she said it. In fact, she had a kind, understanding smile on her face.

"Good luck today," she calls to me before she sprints out the door, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"I hope the horse will be alright," Angel comments conversationally.

Uncle Iggy nods. "I'm sure Nudge will be able to save it."

My dad stretches his arms over his head and gets up from the table. "Ultimate, we'd better get going," he says as he places his plate in the sink.

I follow suit and grab my new backpack from the hallway next to the stairs. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, but I know that's just my anxiety messing with my head. So I shrug it on resentfully and follow my father out to the garage. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone," he warns Iggy, Angel, and no doubt, Uncle Gazzy who was loitering around somewhere in the house.

Angel smiles and Iggy puts his hands in his pockets innocently. "I mean it," he says, giving them a stern look. "If I come back to four broken windows again, it's coming out of your hide."

Iggy holds up his hands, palms forward. "Chill, me and the Gasman are just gonna get started on our new project," he tells him calmly.

My dad gives them another look before going through the door. "That's what I'm worried about," he halfway mumbles, which I laugh at. It's good to know that even though time passes and everything else in the world seems to change, that our family will always stay the same.

_Author's Note__: Obviously this is in the point of view of Max and Fang's daughter, Ultimate. I kept having an idea in my head of what would happen after Max finally saved the world, like what the aftermath would be. So this is my take on what I think could possibly happen._

_I'm not used to writing in this sort of tense, usually I go with the past tense, so bear with me if make a few errors. I know it is starting off kind of slow, but I promise it will get interesting in the next chapter. I hope to get some reviews, I'd love it if you would let me know how you like it or what I could do to make it more interesting. So please don't hesitate, but don't be rude. Constructive criticism is welcome but please don't bash all over the story, if you hate everything about it I think I'd rather live in ignorance. So, with all that said, please review and I will try to update soon if everything goes well._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note**__: Wow, how long has it been since I've updated this thing? Literally years, I know. I have a really good explanation though. I decided to put the fanfic thing on hold for a little bit while I worked on my own original stuff, which is going fairly well if I do say so myself. At any rate, I started feeling bad because I left this story hanging open with hardly an explanation to what happens next, and I really hate that; once I start a story, I _have_ to finish it or it will drive me crazy. So, here I am, after a….two year?...break to attempt to finish this thing. Don't get too dependent on me updating often, though. I've got a ton of school work plus about four stories of my own that I work on every once in a while (I have lots of ideas going through my head, so I can't have just one). _

_Anyway, to get on with it, because I know you've got to be sick of me rambling, I really appreciated your reviews. I'm really insecure about my writing sometimes, so coming here and having other people tell me it's good is really refreshing and gives me a self-confidence boost when it comes to this stuff. So thanks, I'm sorry it took so long._

_As for Max being dead….well, keep reading._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I claim nothing, except for the idea for this story. None of these characters are mine…except Ultimate. I will take full responsibility for her actions._

Chapter Two:

Dad and I walk out to the garage. Inside the massive hanger there is a wide selection of vehicles: everything from my dad's Harley to Aunt Nudge's cute little Volkswagen Bug – apparently she flew to work. But since we are headed for school my dad heads straight for the inconspicuous SUV. I guess that's what a normal family would drive. I'm not too up-to-date on this kind of stuff. The Internet is great, but who wants to spend their time looking up the modern-day soccer mom's ride? Not me.

"Are you getting in?" Dad calls to me from the open driver's side. He's looking at me as if he expects me to bolt. I guess that's to be expected. I was shocked I hadn't thought of it yet.

Too late now, though. "Yeah," I sigh, tossing the backpack to the floorboard before getting in and buckling myself. My wings feel uncomfortable confined underneath my clothing and pressed up against the seat. I want nothing more than to stretch them out to their thirteen foot span and embrace the sky. I know I can't, Dad would be disappointed in me if I just up and left. Still, that didn't mean I couldn't think about it.

He starts the engine and pulls out of our overly-crowded garage. We drive in silence for the first few minutes and I look out the window, thinking about how the forest looks so much better from the sky.

"Are you nervous?" Dad finally asks in a quiet undertone.

I shrug, swallowing back a bad taste in my mouth. "What's to be nervous about?"

He makes some kind of "hmph" noise before heading back to silence. Then, right as I am about to give up on making any kind of conversation, he says, "High school isn't as easy as you think. I know your aunt Nudge has been telling you how great it's going to be, but I just want you to be warned."

"I've seen the re-runs of Dawson's Creek, Dad," I groan, which is horrible show by my standards anyway.

My dad is feeling like any dad would at that moment. He wants me to fit in and be a normal teenager, but at the same time he's scared of that very thing. Parents. There's just no satisfying them.

"Be serious," he snaps. "I don't want you to…" he trails off, not sure how to finish.

"Be an outcast?" I supply lowly. It is inevitable that I will be outside the norm. I already know I won't connect with anyone. Why fight it?

"Ultimate," he warned, hearing my tone.

"Is this your way of giving me an out?" I ask quickly. I would take anything I could get. "Because I'm all for turning around and going home."

"You're going," he says firmly. When he talks like that I know it's a done deal.

I angrily reach forward and switch on the radio. There's some alternative rock song on that I like, so I leave it, crossing my arms and glaring away from my father. "Then why are you brining all this up? You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

He sighs loudly, and apparently the argument is over. For now.

My dad isn't a man of many words. Outwardly at least. Just because someone doesn't speak all the time doesn't mean they don't have an opinion to say. I should know.

Suddenly, a reporter comes on the radio. An interview is being aired with a state senator. As soon as they start speaking, Dad reaches over and switches the channel in frustration.

I look at him incredulously. "Is it getting that bad?"

He glances at me once quickly then focuses on maneuvering the vehicle down the curvy two-lane road we are on – at least it's paved. "They're getting more footing than we thought they would in the senate. Don't worry," he says softly when he sees the panicked look on my face, "we'll get it under control."

I nod slowly a few times. "That one's been at it for a while hasn't he? What is his name?" I ask, screwing my features up as I try to remember.

"Van Morris," Dad replies with an irritated look. "He's been weaseling his way into every kind of deal he can with other senators for the past year. He's been accumulating more support than we predicted. Votes are everything, but we've organized a filibuster for next week. We might be able to even it up."

For the past two decades my dad has been running a blog that, to say the least, got the attention of the world. About ten years ago, he turned his blog into an entire franchise that consisted of an organization fighting for the rights of Semis (as in Semi-Humans) along with addressing other pertinent issues such as global warming and genocide. The blog also developed into an underground newspaper that reported the truth about what was going on in the world. Dad has reporters all over the world working for him, and my aunt Angel is one of them. She works for the NYC branch. He's got so many connections and friends in high places that it's almost eerie.

"What's going to happen if you can't even it up?" I try to keep my calm as I speak the words. Memories of sleeping in caves, eating out of the trash, and always fearing for my life and the lives of my family members flash before my eyes. How is it fair that a single group of people get to decide what someone's fate is going to be? A single vote could decide whether or not I would have a home tomorrow. It unnerved me to think of some of these people being in charge. My family had told me of their experiences with the government many times. It sort of created a little bit of an anarchist out of me.

"Like I said," he states stiffly, "don't worry about it."

Right…

How could I not worry? I lost everything because of people like that. I had to stand and watch while my mother was taken away from me, then later I had to watch as her sacrifice was credited to government officials, after that I had to watch my family try and live without her.

I hardly remember my mom at all. I know what she looks like by just glancing in the mirror or at the few precious pictures we have of her, but I don't know _her,_ what she was really like. I would give anything to just have five minutes more with her so I could know the person behind all the stories of my mom the hero.

The government creating weapons that they couldn't control was what started it all, and my mom destroying the most deadly of them all was what ended it…or so we all hoped. Now, after years of relative peace, they wanted to start again. Now after we Semis were starting to obtain some rights as real people and not caged animals, people like this a-hole is coming into power and ruining it all. All of my dad's hard work, gone…my mom's sacrifice, meaningless.

The mere thought of it makes me tear up a little. Even more than that, I am afraid of what would happen if we have to resume our old way of life. I have been trained very well. I know how to handle myself. But, I am afraid what will happen if I have to put that training to the test.

They all expect me to be just like her, I can see it in their eyes when they look at me. They want me to be the strong person they lost. They want me to fill the void.

The only thing is: I don't think I can. I'm not my mom. I can't save the world.

I hope it will never have to come to that.

Just as my fear starts to seep in, my pulse begins to increase and my adrenaline level rises, the sight of the tall brick building comes into view. Dad pulls into the closest parking spot and puts it in park. He turns the vehicle off and looks at me. "Are you ready, Ultimate?"

For what was to come? I was afraid not.

_**Author's Note**__: So, what do you think? Not too shabby after all this time is it? Well, I hope not at least. Please comment! I love reviews! Just a reminder, if it's the worst thing you've ever read, don't tell me. Ignorance is bliss. _

_Again, sorry it took so long._

_Oh, and as for the whole Max being dead thing, don't let that discourage you from reading. Trust me when I say there's going to be a lot of twists and turns. Nothing is as it seems. By the way, what do you guys think of Ultimate? Personally, I like her, but then again I created her… ___


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**__ No reviews…so sad…_

_But, I digress…  
_

**Disclaimer****:** Sorry, kids, but I'm not JP, and therefore do not own Maximum Ride.

Chapter Three:

I take a deep breath and steady the book bag on my shoulders. I can't feel any more less than normal as I catch glimpses of teenage girls checking out my dad from a distance. I cringe and roll my eyes, following behind him as he doesn't even notice. Not that he would, even if they _were_ relatively his own age – there was only ever one girl for my dad.

Try as I might, I can't stop my heart from pounding in my ears. It isn't that I'm scared of school, it's the fact that I am surrounded by so many people – so many humans that probably want me dead and don't even know me. Being only 98 percent human, even if I was the first naturally born, is more dangerous now than it has ever been. There are people that fight tooth and nail for our rights as human beings, stopping at nothing to make sure that other living creatures are not harmed. But, as it is with everything in this life, there is an opposite end to the spectrum. There are just as many people who want us dead as those who think we were more than walking, talking experiments. And when someone wants you and your kind annihilated that badly, there is hardly any stopping them.

Which is why I can't believe my father is actually agreeing to send me to a public school. My entire life he's been so anal about keeping me safe. I am all but confined to the house at all hours, and when I leave it is rarely without a family member. Now, after all that overprotectiveness, it kind of feels like he is tossing me into the lion's den.

"You'll be safe here," Dad tells me so quietly that only I can hear. He must be reading my thoughts. "This is a small area. No one would ever think that one of us would be hiding here."

Even though he sounds so sure of himself as he says it, I get the feeling that he's trying to convince himself more than he is me. How am I supposed to be at ease in the place when all I can think about is which of them is going to turn me in for what I really am? Normal teenage girls are worrying about who to go to the movies with or which body part to pierce; all I can think about is how exactly I'm going to, literally, survive the next six hours.

We climb the concrete steps up to the front door. Dad holds it open for me and I walk through, thinking that there is no turning back at this point. I will have to suffer through and hope that no one actually tries to make friends with me. I don't need that kind of awkwardness in my life. Too many secrets can't keep a friendship afloat for very long.

"I know," I tell him just as quietly. "I just can't understand why you want to make me go to this hell hole so badly," I continue as I glance at all the normal kids rushing off to class. The looks they are giving me are verging on curious, indifferent, and extremely interested. It is the later that bothers me the most.

"Language," Dad scolds me, which is funny because at home he rarely cares how I talk. Other than my brief reproach, he has nothing else to say. I hate it when he got that way. Ignoring the issue doesn't make it go away.

As we continue down the crowded hallway in an aggravating silence, I take the opportunity to assess what exactly I was going to have to deal with.

To my left there are girls in what seems to be cheerleading uniforms, hanging out in a large gaggle. The strangest part was that while all of them talked at once, it actually to hurt my ears. Superhuman hearing plus whiny cheerleaders does not equal anything less than a headache.

To the right is what I'd classify as your average high school students, hanging out in front of their lockers before class started. Next to them is a group of large boys wearing those ridiculous school jackets, pushing each other around playfully.

Besides the obvious classification of cheerleaders and football players, this school seems oddly un-stereotypical. Well, at least there was that.

Finally, Dad leads me to a large office with a high desk and a way-too-perky receptionist. "Can I help you?" she inquires eagerly. Too eagerly. I'm all for being cheerful, but this lady is taking it to the extreme.

"My name's Nick Ryde," he says smoothly. "I called the other day about enrolling my daughter."

The lady smiles and nods pleasantly while turning to her computer. "Danielle, right?" she asks, looking up at me.

I nod silently. It is going to be a challenge to go back to using fake names. My aunt always told my dad it would be safer to use a different last name than the one my mom made up as kid. Even with all the threats to our family, and the possible danger it could put us in, he wouldn't use another. My dad is probably more stubborn than anyone in the world, so it took Aunt Nudge about a year to convince him to at least change the spelling. That was as far as it would go for him. Nothing seems to make him want to give up anything about my mom.

"Yes, we have you all set up," she tells us, reaching over to a stack of papers that are in the middle of the desk. "You've already done the necessary paperwork I see," she nods, shuffling through a large stack of documents. "All that's left is for Danielle's schedule and a map of the school." She proceeds to hand me two sheets of paper, her acrylic red fingernails looking almost deadly as I reach for them.

"Thanks," I mumble, taking them both and glancing over them. I have the schedule memorized in a manner of seconds, along with the names of the rooms and teachers – the beauty of having a mutanty photographic memory. The map took a little bit longer. I go over it slowly, taking in every escape route, every window and crevice.

"Do you have any questions?" the lady continues to ask. "If you need someone to show you around the school, I can have it arranged."

I shake my head quickly. I already know where everything is. The only problem now was getting through the school day sane. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Any questions, Mr. Ryde?" she probes at my dad.

He shakes his head. "No, thanks."

They continue a boring conversation that I tune out for. I'm too busy looking out at the students passing by. All of them seem so harmless. Maybe I will like it.

Now that's a scary thought.

My bored people-watching seems fruitless. Every student that passes by seems so average, it's almost disappointing. No one seems to notice that I'm practically gawking at them as they go on their merry way. No one except a boy that seems relatively my age that stops in mid-stride and turns to return my stare. When his eyes meet mine, I take a step back without really thinking about it. There is something about him that sets all my inner warning sensors off like a lightning bolt. He continues to stare at me in a dumbfounded kind of way, until a larger rush of people walks around him. When all the people disperse, the boy is gone.

"You okay?"

I jump out of surprise, causing my dad to chuckle quietly. "I'm fine," I snap, glancing back to make sure the boy is no longer there.

Dad frowns at me openly. "What's wrong?" he demands at a harsh whisper, grasping my forearm in his iron-tight hand.

I glance around automatically to make sure there are no on-lookers. Besides the receptionist who is still quite taken by my father, there is no one left to notice the two of us. "Nothing," I return quickly, lowering my voice as well. Our eyes meet, both the same raven black, and we stare at one another for a few seconds, testing the waters between the two of us. Though the flock is still kicking, I know that my dad feels like I am the only thing he has left. With my mother gone, I was the only attachment he, or the rest of my family, had to the old days when she was still alive. It was no secret that I was her living memory. Therefore, my dad and I have an attachment that could rival most father-daughter relationships, and our sense of communication isn't exactly normal.

"If you really want me to do this," I tell him, slipping my arm out of his grasp, "you need to _let_ me do it, on my own terms. If you're going to be worrying about me every second, why send me in the first place?" I had been wondering over the past few weeks what his real motives were for sending me out into the 'real' world. Does he really think that I need interaction with the full-humans? Teenage humans at that?

Dad clenches his jaw as he glances away from his own stare that was genetically mirrored in my eyes. "Ult…" he begins, but stops himself after a quick look at the receptionist. "_Danielle_," he corrects with a sly, sideways grin, "you just have to trust me. For now."

It is very hard for me to suppress my groan. When he was my age, he would never have stood for an adult offering such a vague answer. In fact, at my age, he, my mother, and the rest of the flock, were off living on their own, still fighting for the good of the world. Why am I to be subservient to him when his actions so very greatly contradict his words?

"That's a two-way street, Dad," I inform him unkindly, pulling at my book bag straps. The weight has begun to feel uncomfortable on my tightly-folded wings, and I want nothing more than to ditch the ridiculous thing.

A small group of students had entered the room during our discussion and they were now distracting the receptionist enough with their attendance slips that we can speak somewhat more freely. "Things are getting more dangerous out there, Ult…Danielle," he tells me quietly. "The best thing you can do for our family right now is play your part. Act like a normal teenage girl, and try to stay out of trouble."

I am taken aback as the breath leaves my body in a tiny gasp. "What going on, Dad?!" I whisper urgently. "They aren't closing in on us are they?"

The government…well, many governments from many different countries, along with secret organizations that sprung up from the ancient Itex, have been looking for our family for over two decades. Now, with Dad's blog and underground network of spies stirring up so much dust that no one knew which way was up, we are an even bigger target, if that is at all possible.

He shakes his head quickly, though that didn't ease my panic. "Don't worry about it right now," he says calmly. "This is just a precaution."

One of Uncle Gazzy's favorite things to do was tease me about 'throwing a hissy' when I'm mad. If that's true, then a giant 'hissy' is definitely building to a volcanic proportion. "What the hell…"

"Language," he interrupts impatiently.

"Screw my language!" Now the people in the office are staring, with good reason. I am teetering on the edge of completely loosing it, and on top of that I was confined to a small area crammed full of people with my wings pressed uncomfortably against my back by the torture devise all students are coerced into carrying. "Either tell me what's going on, or…" before I can finish my threat, Dad grabs me around the wrist and proceeds to haul me out of the office and down the long hallway. I literally bite my tongue while he marched down the crowded hallway with me in tow, so as to not startle the full-blooded humans.

He pulls me into a small empty room that seems to be an abandoned classroom that was now used for storage. "Listen to me!" he roars – well, my Dad's version of roaring at me, which was closer to an outraged yell. "This may be precautionary, but that doesn't mean they aren't coming closer to finding us every day. If you really want to stay here and stay hidden, you'll do this. And you won't question me about it anymore."

I am stunned into silence. My dad's a pretty passive guy when it came to me. I can literally count on one hand the number of times throughout my life that I have actually been verbally scorned. I'm not sure what exactly is going on, or who is after us. However, I could tell for certain that whatever it is, it has my father seriously scared…scared enough to be afraid for my life. Afraid enough to send me to school, thus making me look human, and give me not only a place to hide, but an alibi in the chance that we are somehow found. He isn't throwing me to the lion's den after all. He is giving me an out that no one else in the flock could ever have.

"Dad," I sigh as I shake my head, trying not to feel as shaken as I really am. "Why?"

His face goes from angry to somber in the space of a second. I think perhaps I will get another rebuttal, or maybe even an outright lie. He looks back up at me with desperation written plainly on his face. "I can't lose you too, Ultimate." I was wrong on both counts. He finally gave me the honesty I had been wanting. Now, though, I am not sure I want it. Not when it hits this close to my heart.

"What do you think is going to happen?" I barely utter. My heart, which is normally a quick flutter to begin with, feels as if it has wings of its own and is about to fly right out of my chest.

He stands so still that for a moment he becomes invisible before my eyes. Finally, though, he moved just slightly and he becomes visible again – a trait other children never have to come to expect with a parent, though to me it is so completely normal that I hardly notice anymore. "I'm not sure. Things have changed so much…twenty years ago I would have told you that we all would be headed for the cages. Most of us will probably be killed on the spot."

This time my gasp is noticeably louder. I heard stories of the dog cages all my life. The horrifying recollection of my family's time in the School was never meant to scare me…at least not _only_ scare me. I always knew that their constant reminding of their time in that place was to make me fight even harder to stay out of it.

Something he said isn't sitting well with me. "What do you mean 'most of us'? Who wouldn't be killed?" I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation. Normally, discussing the deaths of my family members would be all but unbearable.

"Being killed would be the easier path," he says too quietly. "Going back to cages…that would be worse. Far worse."

Now I understood. The reason _I_ was getting an alibi was because I would be the one thrown into the cage for the experiments. I had always known that I am different because I am the only natural born hybrid child, though until recently I never really understood how dangerous that is for me and the flock. Out of all the freaks in the world created by the School and by Itex, I am the only real freak of nature. By all calculation, I should not exist. No other hybrid has ever been able to breed. Uncle Iggy and Aunt Nudge have been married for years and have yet to procreate any children. From the hushed conversations I caught the tail-end of for the past couple of years, it was not from lack of trying. Aunt Nudge wanted a baby. Bad. The fact that she could not have one is both heart-wrenching and puzzling. No one really knows why my mom and dad were able to have me, and despite my grandparents' efforts – against Dad's better judgment, mind you – my existence still remains an unsolvable mystery.

"You can't expect me to do this!" I breathe hysterically. "If it's me they're after, send me off somewhere. We spent the first three years of my life on the run, why not again? I could go to New York with Aunt Angel…"

"No," he says gruffly. "It's not you they're after, it's me. But if they find you while looking for me, they'll throw you in a cage and I might not be there to get you out…"

I was never a crier. In fact, it somehow seems as if crying is severely looked down upon in my family. Now, though, I can feel tears choking my throat. "I understand," I manage to tell him. "For now at least."

My father smiles at me sadly before he pulls me into a hug. We may not be big on showing our emotions, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other. After my mom died, I was the only one that Dad ever held again. Thinking about that made me wonder what would have happened if the miracle/freak accident that happened along and helped to create me never occurred. I can't help but wonder if the flock would still be together. If it wasn't for me, they would all be off living their own lives. Aunt Nudge and Uncle Iggy would have been able to adopt a baby, Uncle Gazzy could live out his dream of winning American Idol – he could sound like any singer he wanted after all –, and Aunt Angel wouldn't have to risk her secret of being a hybrid by being a part-time spy for my dad. She could live with her boyfriend Ruff in their NYC apartment and attend Columbia full time instead of part time like she is doing now. Then there is my dad. Somehow, deep inside, I can't feel guilty for keeping the others from easier lives when I know what his life would be like without me around to keep him attached to the world, because I know that after my mother died, he wouldn't have sat back and taken it as easily as he had due to the fact that he had a three year old to look after. He would have gone out and sought revenge until it slowly tore him apart. I love my father enough to risk the others' happiness. Because, just like him, I know that he is all I have left.

So, as I said, for now I will attend school. I'll go to class, mind my language, and try not to get into trouble, even if it is my own personal form of hell. I may not be a real hero like my mom, or my dad even, but I know that this is the least I can do for my family. Saving the world is way beyond my reach, or my ability. Saving my family, however, is something I will gladly attempt, even if it means risking my life.

As my father and I exit the storage room, I get another distinct bad feeling deep in my gut. Again, I can't help but dread what is to come. Somehow, I know that this attending school thing is going to end up being a fiasco. Worse than that, my thoughts are consumed in destruction. My sixth sense that I never told anyone about is literally blaring inside my head. Something bad is going to happen in the near future. The only problem is, I don't know what's going to happen, or when for that matter. All I do know is that Dad thinks sending me to high school is going to make me safe. I'm almost a hundred percent certain that is not in any way true. However, if he thinks it is, and if it will help him sleep at night, I'll do it. I owe him that much.

He gives me one last look over his shoulder and smiles his signature grin before disappearing out the front door. That is it. For the first time in my life, I'm alone. With a regretful resignation to at least attempt to pull through this mess and come out breathing, I face the long hallway in front of me, crowded with students, and bravely step into the swarm of bodies that will quite possibly be the death of me.

_Author's Note__: Ok, so in the next chapters, I'm going to have to switch to past tense because present is seriously killing me – I really don't know what I was thinking doing it like that in the first place. Anyway, I'd REALLY appreciate some reviews. Please? Pretty please? What do you like/dislike? I know it's still a little slow. But I hope that you can hang on, because I'm pretty sure the next chapter is going to be pretty exciting and maybe even slightly cliff-hangery._

_Also, please, don't get discouraged because Max _appears _to be dead. Nothing is as it seems – not to sound cryptic._

_So, I hope you like it so far, and, like I said, please review!_


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